On Lists
by Zelda Ophelia
Summary: She likes lists--they keep things orderly. For the "One Month Ago" prompt at the Five Stages of Love challenge. First in the "Of locker rooms and lunch dates" series.


**Author's Note:** For the Five Stages of Love challenge on LiveJournal. Prompt: One Month Ago. Thanks to E for the beta read!

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Jess likes lists--they keep things orderly. She keeps a list for everything: grocery lists (always short when you're cooking for one), to-do lists (sometimes the only way she gets things finished), book lists (for the rare occasion she has that thing called spare time when she can read). She keeps lists of things she likes (her job, chocolate, baseball, sex) and lists of things she doesn't like (green beans, new age music, Vicaro checking out her ass); lists of things she'd like to do (be promoted to second grade, check out the new restaurant down the block, fuck Flack senseless) and lists of thing she'll never ever do (transfer back to robbery, get involved with a co-worker, fuck Flack senseless).

Which is why she shakes her head as he suggests, again, that they grab a bite to eat since their shift is ending. She has his number. It begins with "let's keep it casual" and ends with being the subject of the precinct's rumor mill.

Both are things she's certain belong on that last list.

"C'mon, Angell," Flack protests, following her into the locker room. When she looks up from grabbing her things, he's leaning against Maka's locker and giving her a smirk that never fails to make her stomach flip. "We all gotta eat sometime. And O'Malleys has great sandwiches."

"Sorry, Flack," she says, trying to ignore his look. "I've got better things to do."

Better things being the carton of Chunky Monkey in her freezer and the vibrator her sister-in-law gave her for Christmas. (She'd thought her brother was going to choke when she opened that package. Luckily, she'd hid it before Dad saw what it was.) The toy gets more use than she's certain Emily intended for the gag gift. And if it's a certain detective she thinks about while using it, well it keeps her from breaking that co-worker rule, doesn't it?

"It's a little late to get your bangs cut, isn't it?" he asks, grinning when she blushes. (Okay, so he saw through the excuse she used when he asked her out last month.)

She shrugs, trying to look nonchalant despite part of her desperately wanting to say yes. She knows better than to get involved in something like this. "Maybe that isn't what I had planned for tonight."

He watches her for a beat longer than she's expecting, studying her closely before shrugging and backing down. "If you're sure. But if you change your mind, we'll be at O'Malleys."

"We?" she asks, turning to look at him.

He's nearly to the door when he answers, "Yeah, nearly the whole squad'll be there."

Jess nods as he leaves, staring blankly into her locker. Somehow she feels like an even bigger screw-up now than when Dad caught her trying to sneak a boy into her room. And she never thought she'd get over the disappointed look on his face that night.

The mirror hanging in the back of her locker catches her eye, and she's surprised to see that look of disappointment reflected on her face--surprised enough to slam the locker shut before remembering her jacket is still inside. She's so rattled it takes three attempts to get the combination right (the first she tries is her high school locker combination, and she has no idea why she's remembering it now). When she finally does leave the locker room, it's later than she planned, but it does mean the squad room is thankfully empty when she leaves.

But she's not that surprised to finds herself outside of O'Malleys instead of her apartment building. She can see Flack through the window, chuckling at something Thacker is saying. Maka and Brustin are arguing about a case as she steps inside, their voices carrying over the other chatter. Marks is the first to see her, waving her over to their table. But it's the grin on Flack's face as he looks up that convinces her she made the right decision.

"'Bout time you got here," he says, pushing the empty chair beside him out with his foot.

"We all gotta eat sometime," she says as she slides into the seat. She flags down a waitress, ordering a sandwich and ignoring the warmth of Flack's hand low on her back.

_I'm not out with just him, I'm out with a group of colleagues_, she reasons as she catches herself automatically leaning into his touch. This isn't breaking her rule.

Somehow, she isn't quite convinced.


End file.
